Broken Microwave
by Aisukuri-Mu Studio
Summary: .:E:. S9. Charlie finds an angel on her doorstep who walks in only to break her microwave, the poor baby - not that he's poor or a baby, after all, he's an angel - and decides to house this wingless angel-baby (but he's not!) on his request. She doesn't realize how hard it will be, or how the broken microwave will provide her with the perfect excuse... Charlie & Castiel bromance.


**Broken Microwave**

Charlie didn't mean to wind up like this. She remembers the angels falling as clearly as everyone – the government tried to write it off as some sort of unpredicted meteor shower, but everyone who isn't stupid knows different. How anyone could believe such a blatant lie was beyond her.

What she doesn't expect, though, is that almost two days after the Fall (with a capital 'F'), there's a knock on her door. And when she opens it, expecting the mailman to be delivering her collectible, limited edition figmas, there's an angel standing before her.

Well. What used to be an angel, anyway – not that she can even tell he's anything but human.

"Um," she says as the angel meets her eyes, staring into them with such a ferocity and determination that she can't help but feel awkward, "can – can I help you?"

She can't tell he's an angel at first, but she knows that he feels _familiar_; like she's walked many roads with him, or perhaps sat with him and watched _Game of Thrones_ reruns multiple times. He seems to recognize her, though, and he nods; he seems short of breath and then she notices that he's only barely standing.

"B-Belladonna …" He coughs. His trenchcoat is covered in dirt. "Middleton. Right?"

"Yes…?" She frowns – okay, now she _knows_ she's heard his voice before, but how does he know her real name? "Who are you?"

"My… my name is Castiel." He grimaces. "This may not sound sane to you, but I was once your angel."

Castiel! Castiel, of _course_ – from Edlund's multibook biography of the Winchesters! Charlie's hand covers her mouth, trying to take it in – because of _course_ he's Castiel – but the second part of his statement catches her off-guard. "M…my angel?" she repeats.

"Yes," he nods, and he grimaces. "When… when you were younger, you often prayed, and I was assigned to watch over you – to guard you, in a manner of speaking."

Charlie is in awe – in complete, utter _awe_. Anger flares briefly in her ribcage, though she forces it back down—_it was my fault, not his_, she reasons with herself before it is allowed to take over—and she smiles. "A guardian angel," she whispers in a sudden moment of clarity, and Castiel reflects her warm expression.

Then his stomach growls, and he might have turned red if he had not seem so ill. "I, ah …" He winces. "I am sure you took notice of the angels falling just the other day, and, well, we are now human. I – I do not know how to cook, or, how to … how to _anything_. If it is not too much to ask of you, Miss Middleton."

"Of course, of course!" Charlie steps aside, allowing Castiel in. "I hope you don't mind," she says with a small, embarrassed laugh, "but my knowledge of cooking extends to heating up TV dinners, ramen, and mac n' cheese."

"I haven't eaten in days," Castiel assures her, and she notices his limp as he stumbles to her couch. "Anything would be wonderful."

When Charlie is done with the mac n' cheese and returns to the living room to hand the bowl to him, she discovers Castiel is asleep. Just as well, she thinks with a small sigh. He needs the rest. She'd just put the meal in a Ziploc bag and leave him instructions for how to heat it up on his own – just in case she's out when he wakes up.

In the meantime, there's another question weighing heavily on her mind: should she let Sam and Dean know about this?

… After another moment of watching the sleeping angel, she decides that that question is for another day. For now she would allow him to rest – that was what he needed most.

* * *

When Charlie wakes up, after having fallen asleep in her own bed, it is because Castiel is shaking her, a worried expression on his face. "Miss Middleton!" he's exclaiming, repeatedly, and so she fights her desire to sleep as she sits up; something must be up.

"What's wrong, Castiel?" she asks, rubbing her eyes. He stares at her for a moment, as if perplexed, and then he whispers.

"I-I…" He stutters for a moment, and then he winces. "I thought that you might be dead. I – I am sorry to disturb you, but when I awoke and you were not there, I panicked…"

Dead? She frowns as she examines him through the dark. "Why would you think I was dead?" she asks, curious and concerned – in fact, perhaps a bit touched.

Castiel almost flinches at her question; then he sighs and shakes his head. "Forgive me," he says, massaging his temple, and before he turns away Charlie thinks she sees tears in his eyes. "Being human is… far more difficult than I had anticipated."

He freezes, closing his eyes, and to Charlie it looks like he's trying to run. "…Are you sure you're okay?" she whispers, putting a hand on his arm.

Castiel gasps, as if in pain, and she starts to ask if he's been hurt, if he has wounds that need tending to – how _stupid_ of her to not think of that earlier! – but he stumbles to his feet and is out the room as fast as he can, his limp still prevalent.

Oh, dear. She sighs and runs her fingers through her long, bed-ruined hair. After all he's done for her, for Sam and Dean, for the _world_, she can't even find the strength within her to comfort him.

That was it. In the morning, she would call Dean. Yes. She would. Because even if they'd gotten into a lot of fights in their time, Castiel would always return to Dean's side, and Dean would always take him back.

And if Dean couldn't comfort him, well … she would have to whip out her mother's special recipe of whoop-ass and force him to feel better!

She hasn't ever used that special recipe on someone outside of an MMO, but hey. It can't be that different, right?

* * *

When Charlie awakes again, it's to the smell of smoke. She groans as she gets up and hobbles into the kitchen, where Castiel (in his gorgeous but in-need-of-a-wash trenchcoat) is staring dead-eyed at the malfunctioning microwave.

"What…" She frowns, and he turns at her voice. "What are you doing, Castiel?"

"I was hungry." He shifts a bit, as if uncomfortable. "I am currently reheating the strange, squishy noodles in the manner that the paper recommended. Currently, they are green as opposed to their earlier yellow."

She raises a brow and opens the microwave; she coughs as the smoke comes pouring out, and she ducks her head to avoid inhaling it any further. She hears Castiel cough as well, and when she glances back at him he looks confused.

"Does that usually happen?" he asks once the both of them get ahold of themselves. She shakes her head, hesitantly taking a deep breath.

"…what did you _do_?" she whispers – not really to him, not an accusation, but more of a statement of fear as she peered into the microwave, anxiety fighting the responsibility that told her to ignore this and forget about it—

He microwaved the bag. He put the entire Ziploc bag in there, didn't bother to take the macaroni out of it. Charlie puts her head in her hands and sighs, trying to hide the grin on her face.

"…Have I made a mistake?"

She glances back to Castiel and his expression is one of immense guilt or sorrow. "I am very sorry," he says before she can reply, and he steps forward. "I will dispose of—"

"Hold on," she interrupts him, putting a hand out to him, and he stops moving. "Hold on, I'm not _mad_, Castiel. Amused, and a little bit confused on how I'm going to need to make the instructions clearer, perhaps, but not _mad_."

He stares at her for a moment, his brow crinkled as if he's trying _so_ hard to determine whether or not she is lying. "…Are you sure?" he asks at long last, and she nods.

"I'll clean up this mess," she says, and she smiles. "So, here. Why don't you snack on a granola bar in the meantime, and we'll go grab a bite. Sound good?"

"I do not understand how one can physically hold an action," he replies, "but if you think it is a good idea, then I suppose I must agree."

She giggles despite herself, even though he looks more confused. Screw Dean – she was going to give Castiel an American Slang 101 course.

And it was going to be _so_ much fun.

* * *

Castiel's definitely not ready to eat in any sort of public setting, so Charlie takes him to a drive-thru. It's not the healthiest place to eat, but it's quick, and he probably needs the carbs since the last time he ate was when he and the Winchesters encountered Greed.

However, she underestimates how well adjusted he is to technology.

_"Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your ord_—"

"Who is talking?" Castiel leans towards the open driver's-side window, despite being on the passenger side, and the move is so sudden it almost makes Charlie shriek. "Where is the voice coming from? Is it some sort of vocal projection? How will they hear your reply? Is it a variation of what Dean calls my 'angel radio,' or—"

"Cas, _sit_." She's harsher than she means to be, and he looks hurt, but he does in fact sit down. "I promise I'll explain it later, okay?"

He nods, and she feels bad because he just looks so _glum_; every time she reprimands him, he looks as if he is ridden with guilt. "I am sorry," he says, and he seems so sincere she wants to hug him and tell him everything will be all right – as if he is a child.

Which is absolutely not true and such an action would be completely inappropriate. No. She can't do that. He's _so_ much older than her – she can't even _fathom_ his age. He's a celestial being, she shouldn't treat him with anything but respect.

The cashier, despite being a little weirded out, is glad to actually take their order. Finally they have food, and although Castiel's reluctant to eat when Charlie is not, she encourages him to go ahead – she'll eat once they get home. She doesn't want to be distracted while she's driving, after all.

He says "all right" as if he still doesn't quite understand, but once he starts eating, Charlie can't help but grin. Because he hasn't eaten in so long, she got him a small meal (the kid's Happy Meal with chicken tenders) – he can eat more later, once his body readjusts to being supplied with nutrition once more.

What she doesn't expect is that the meat might make him ill. They have to stop several times on the way home to allow Castiel to regurgitate all that he ate on the side of the road. Charlie feels awful about it, especially when he asks her why he's done it and she has no feasible explanation for him.

"I think I'm going to put you on a strictly all-juice diet," she says after he's puked for the third time. He only groans in response.

* * *

He does seem to take to the juices better than the fast food, to both of their extreme relief. He complains more than once about the flavor, but she tells him that green juices are good for you (according to the Internet, at least), and he quiets for a while. It's a cycle of some sort, and he only pukes once after the switch, which Charlie finds to be immense progress.

When Castiel says, "I think I am tired," as if he doesn't know what it is to be tired, Charlie guides him to her room and lets him take a nap on her bed. Poor baby.

Not – not that he _is_ a baby, of course, he's thousands of years old and has had power beyond her wildest dreams – and he's been to Heaven – in fact, he even lived there for a while – but she can't help but dote on him. He's like a child in a grown man's body, in more ways than one.

"_Being human is … far more difficult than I had anticipated_."

She wonders what he meant by that. Then she scowls, snaps herself out of it – and suddenly her phone buzzes. Castiel looks up – he'd probably been on the verge of REM sleep, poor thing – and she mouths to him a silent "I'm sorry" as she picks up her phone.

_U getting on? In the mood for a raid ;)_

Oh – oh, right! Duh! She totally forgot about the MMO! With Castiel's sudden arrival, she'd completely forgotten about her commitment to the guild. _Now_ she feels like an ass.

She glances back at Castiel, who's snuggled back beneath the covers, and steals out of the room with her laptop. "Sorry," she whispers with a small smile, hoping to not wake him again, and closes the door gently behind her.

* * *

The next time she sees Castiel is when she, MoonDwarf317, CelesTial3, and FriedPickles666 have completed the dungeon. They're dividing up the loot, and she doesn't even notice his presence until he says, "What is that?"

She lets out a small 'eep' and rips her headset off – several calls of "_Queen, are you all right_?" come from the ears of it, and Castiel crinkles his brow in confusion.

"It's – um – it's a game," she explains with a certain level of embarrassment. "You know. We play it for fun."

He lowers himself into almost a squat as he examines the screen at eye-level, and then glances to the headset – "_Did she go afk_?" – and he frowns. "What sort of game?"

If Charlie gets Castiel into role-playing, Dean might never forgive her. But she grins; oh, it's going to be _so_ worth it.

"An electronic one," she says. "We all pretend to be different people, with different personalities and different backgrounds, and we play with people from all over the world. It's tons of fun. Maybe I'll help you set up an account in a bit."

He nods slowly, and for a moment he looks like he wants to say something – he looks very afraid, though, but she can't tell what it is he's afraid of – and then he turns and walks away before she can say anything.

What…?

But she can't leave her guild members behind after how absent she's been, so she picks up the headset again. "Sorry guys, I'm good," she says. "I have to leave after this, though."

"_That's cool_," Celes says. "_I've got to pick up the kids soon, anyway. Wife's out of town_."

"_Yeah_," Pickles agrees. "_I've still got homework to do. So don't feel too bad about it_."

Moon Dwarf, as always, only types a "…" into the chat box. Though no one has heard Moon Dwarf's voice, it's common knowledge that Moon Dwarf is male, and also is likely to have the volume off, because he only types the "…" (his signature) when everyone is talking but not on the move, as if asking if everyone is still there.

And so Charlie, with a great sigh, signs off. Castiel isn't telling her something, and though she knows it's none of her business, she feels as if it's necessary to know in order to help him.

If Dean were here, would things be different…?

* * *

"Who is this?"

Charlie looks up from making his sandwich – several days have passed without incident, so she figures it's as good a time as any to add solids into his diet. Castiel is examining a photograph on the fridge, and Charlie shrugs.

"It's my mother and I," she says. "Before the accident."

It's one of her most treasured possessions, though she would never tell anyone such a thing. A moment of silence passes between them, and then Castiel seems to understand. "Ah," he says. "Of course. I remember."

She glances to him; she's finished the sandwich, but it seems irrelevant in the face of this subject. "You do?" she asks. She's genuinely surprised – even though he told her that he was "_her angel_" once, she can't fathom anyone finding the events of her life to be memorable – especially an _angel_, whose long years must be infinitely more interesting and painful than hers.

"I do." He nods, and then he meets her eyes. "It was when you stopped praying."

Charlie flinches. Castiel's gaze is like a lance, but it's not accusing her at all – if anything, it's as if he's grieving.

"I did what I could for her, you understand," he says with a wince. "It was her time, and because Death was so insistent, all I could do was hide her from the Reapers. She would have fallen into a comatose state no matter what happened that day, because she was on the list."

"…Really?"

He almost sounds as if he's apologizing for something _he's_ done, but at her voice, he blinks, and with the stare broken, Charlie can't help but avert her eyes. "Yes," he continues. "If I hadn't interfered, she would have been properly escorted to Heaven. But the moment of her… near-death would not have changed."

"…So…" This shouldn't still bother her, but it does. She swallows, and she stares at her fingers as she fidgets, because she just can't quite put her question into words without sounding like some sort of self-important—

"No." When she looks up again, Castiel is shaking his head, his eyes wide. "You… don't blame yourself for that, do you? After so long—even _now_?"

Charlie is all of a sudden acutely aware of the fact that Castiel has listened. Every single moment she prayed, when she blamed herself and when she blamed God, he did not only hear her, but he _listened_. It is as if she has been laid bare in front of him.

Castiel takes a step toward her – before he can move any further, without knowing what it is he intends to do, Charlie shoves the plate into his hands, mutters a hasty "I-I need to go," and flees the scene.

She's such a coward. Castiel's the _good guy_, what the hell is she running from? He's trying to help.

She knows that, she_ does_. But she's just so overwhelmed; he's lifted a huge weight off her shoulders, and the moment she's in her room with the door closed behind her, she falls to her knees and weeps in both joy and relief.

Later – far later, hours, though Charlie has lost count – Castiel knocks on her door. When he hears nothing, he comes in anyway, and when he sees Charlie resting against the wall with her head in her arms, he kneels next to her.

He doesn't say anything. He hands her a small, napkin-wrapped, messily-made peanut butter and jelly sandwich; he's cut the crust off (perhaps too much of it – the sandwich itself is small enough to fit into the palm of her hand), and for a moment Charlie wonders how in the world he knew that this was something her mother used to make for her.

When she realizes it's probably because she prayed for it rather often when she was young, her cheeks flush red, and she starts to cry all over again.

Perhaps the reason Castiel stays silent is because he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to react. When he sees her fresh tears, his brow furrows at her in concern – so she smiles through it all and nods at him, unable to vocalize her appreciation, and he seems to understand.

Whether his silence is out of ignorance or compassion, she doesn't care. The mere gesture means the world to her.

* * *

About a week passes when Charlie finally gives in. They _need_ that microwave, and although Castiel insists that it's fine, that he can just live off of sandwiches and ramen (likely not wishing to have to wrestle with the machine again), Charlie knows that on nights when the raid will be long, her only friend will be the TV dinner.

So, after showing Castiel the basics of online gaming and leaving him to figure out which monsters are too tough for him as a beginner ("I am a celestial being! I could smite these beasts in mere seconds if they were not so cowardly as to stay within this tiny, two-dimensional plane!"), Charlie heads to another room to call a friend.

"_'Ey, Charlie_!" She can't help but grin at the sound of his voice. "_How's it hangin'_?"

"Good," she says, and it's true. "Listen, Dean, Sam's a good handyman, right?"

A moment of silence. "_…You mean you didn't call to talk to _me?"

Charlie rolls her eyes. "You're such a dork," she says, and he laughs. "If you guys aren't too busy with cleaning up the whole 'angels falling from the sky' mess, I could _really_ use a hand. My microwave is busted, and I can't help out my guild members without the help of my beloved friend, leftovers."

Dean chuckles, but there's a moment of silence that leaves her feeling a bit awkward. "Sam's … okay, right?" she says, her stomach dropping.

"_Yeah, yeah, he's fine! He's fine_," Dean's rapid assurance is suspicious, she supposes, and then he says, "_I'll tell him to get on the road first thing tomorrow, okay_?"

Someone else is talking in the background, and Dean says, "_All right, Charlie, I've gotta go, but_—"

"No, wait," she interrupts him, and to her satisfaction he shuts up. "You'd better come too. I've missed you, you know. You can bring the entire Team Free Will if you want."

Another moment of silence. "_…Team _what?"

"Team Free Will," she replies, grinning. "It's what all the online forums are calling you guys. You know – Carver Edlund? _Supernatural_?"

"_Oh_!" Dean laughs again and she can just _feel_ him shaking his head. "_Ah, yeah, I remember that guy. Man, what a stupid-ass name_."

"Hey, _I_ like it!"

"_That's because you're a dork_." She sticks her tongue out, even though he can't see it, and then he says, "_All right, all right. I'll come along. We'll have you saving the virtual world from virtual demons again in no time_."

"I knew I could count on you!" she says, grinning. They say a short farewell and then she hangs up, though her stomach is churning with anxiety.

How Dean couldn't tell that she was hiding something is beyond her – or maybe he could, and that's why he relented.

Castiel appears right after she hangs up, and he seems frustrated. "Why will the heretics not submit to my will?" he demands, and Charlie can't help but laugh. He must mean the imps, she thinks.

"You've got to level up, silly," she says with a grin.

"Level up?" Castiel's furrowed brow implies that she didn't cover as many of the basics as she thought she did, so they go back to the computer and they play the game together.

She soon discovers Castiel's problem. It's not that he's a lower level – though he is, without a doubt, still a noob – it's that he's trying to attack other players on a non-PVP server, and the "heretics" are not imps, but those with potty-mouths.

"Their language is worse than Dean's," he says, and then he gets this forlorn look on his face.

Charlie has never been more thankful for the option to view messages only from those on the friend list.

* * *

The night before Dean and Sam are supposed to show up, Charlie decides to walk Castiel through American Slang 101 again. "Do you have your flash cards?" she asks as they sit on her bed in their pajamas – she chose a full pajama set for him, because despite the fact the angel is probably unbelievably muscular underneath his trenchcoat, she doesn't want to see it.

Well, she does, but she's fairly sure that Dean would raise a brow at her if she only gave Castiel a pair of pants to wear to bed – silently asking, _I thought you were gay?_ And yes, she is. But she can appreciate a toned body regardless of whether or not it has breasts, and just the thought of trying to explain that concept to Dean is enough to make her head spin.

Not – not that she would ever have to. Dean would never know what pajamas she gave to Castiel. But it doesn't hurt to be safe.

When Castiel holds up a handful of the flash cards, she takes them from him. "Have you been studying?" she asks, and he nods, a proud grin on his face.

"Of course," he replies. "It is nice to have something to focus on again."

She laughs, and holds up the first one. "Awesome."

"Oh, this one is easy." He giggles, and Charlie's heart almost melts. "This is the one Dean says all the time. Ah, it means…"

He stops. He's been reminded of Dean again, and Charlie reaches forward, taking his hand. "It's okay," she says, and he raises a brow. "Trust me. You'll see Dean again before you know it."

Castiel shakes his head. "It is kind of you to say that without knowing my situation," he says. "So I thank you. But you do not know him like I do. It is doubtful that he will be quite agreeable with my presence for a long time. He will not forgive me easily."

"…I think I _do_ know him like you do," she replies, and he frowns. "Dean Winchester, right? Dean, 'my life sucks, boohoo, I can't trust anyone because I'm not willing to let anyone in,' Winchester?"

Castiel furrows his brow. "I … do not think that his first and last names are separated by a run-on sentence. But yes, that's him. How do you know him?"

"He and Sam have saved my ass on more than one occasion," she replies, and then she laughs, turning red. "And I helped them out when the Leviathans were in town. We're actually pretty close."

Pretty close – right. Castiel's brow is furrowed again. "…You do not seem to be in his vicinity to me," he says, and Charlie giggles.

"Not physically close, silly," she replies, and Castiel is the one who turns red this time.

An angel can blush. Who would've thought?

"I – I'm very sorry." He suddenly seems rather embarrassed. "I am still, ah, trying to learn some of the human phrases. I know you mean well, but the flash cards don't seem to cover all of the little … idiosyncrasies of this language. I know that my mistakes are many, and – and I appreciate all that you are doing to help me – "

"Whoa there." Castiel stops talking immediately, and Charlie frowns. "Why are you apologizing, Castiel? You're doing the best that you can. I'm just really glad you're still trying, after all you've been through."

Castiel sighs and looks down at his hands. It as if he is seeing them for the first time, committing to memory every wrinkle, every crevice. "I have learned," he begins slowly, as if the weight of the world is on his tongue, "that often times trying is not enough. I have let too many people down too many times because of my numerous, immeasurable mistakes, and I would like to not do that again. I would like to look at this as a new chapter, where I can begin to make amends for my transgressions."

She hugs him. He's startled by her action, but this is all she can do for him. It takes him a moment, before he returns her embrace.

For all his many years, he is far more broken than any human could ever be. It's not just Dean that's screwed him up – one person alone could never do this much damage. Never.

"Oh, Castiel," she murmurs as she holds him close, and she can feel the tremor in his body as he tries to fight back the memories.

He was there for her when she thought no one was there to hear her tears; now, she can do the same for him.

* * *

When Charlie wakes up, it's to a sharp knock on the door. She sits up, groaning – her entire body aches as if she's been sleeping in an awkward position – and then Castiel, beside her, does the same.

"Are you expecting company?" Castiel asks, and she almost answers that no, she isn't—

Oh, _shit_.

"I totally forgot," she realizes, and she glances to the clock. It reads _10:46_ in glaring, red letters. Did her alarm not go off?

"Charlie!" Dean calls – and Castiel goes pale immediately. "Charlie, open up!"

"Dean is… Dean is here?" Castiel looks like he's going to puke again. Charlie pats his shoulder, whispers a rushed "sorry" and quickly changes. She almost worries about modesty, but no time – they're already here!

When she answers the door, she's totally out of breath, and she says, "Hey, bitch—"

Yawn.

"—es."

Dean laughs. "Did we wake Sleeping Beauty?" Sam snorts, and in response, Charlie quickly brushes a hand through her fuzzy, red bedhead.

"Shut up," she says, the retort coming to her too slow, and both boys snicker. "Come in. The, uh – I'll show you the microwave."

When they walk, they pass her room, and she realizes it's cracked open just a peek. Neither of the boys tries to peer in, and her heart sinks as she understands that Castiel will not be leaving it of his own accord.

_Disappointed_? Why was she? Castiel would recover on his own time. It was silly of her to try to rush him. But…

"Holy cow," Sam says as he examines the insides of the microwave, and Dean whistles as if he is impressed. "What happened?"

"Um." Charlie clears her throat. "A… a friend of ours-_mine_-" Both boys raise an eyebrow, but she ignores that. "A friend of _mine_ was … trying to microwave something with, um, plastic. And the microwave did not like that."

Dean gives her one of those looks, one of the looks he always gives before he tries to reprimand someone, so she says, "Anyway, I uh, was in the middle of – of WoW, so, give me just one sec," and she vacates that room as quick as she can.

She can hear Dean and Sam conversing from her room, which seems a bit rude of them (though admittedly, not out of character). Castiel is sitting on the bed in the exact same position as when she left, his eyes on the door.

"Castiel," she says under her breath, so as not to alert the boys to the angel's – _once_-angel's presence, "come on. You want to see them again, don't you?"

His eyes come back into focus as he looks to her. "Of course I do," he whispers, and his voice sounds like sandpaper; it is rough with emotion, tense with love. "Of _course_. But they … they would not like to see me again, not so soon…"

"…Do you want me to ask?" Castiel blinks, and she shrugs. "If you want, I'll ask them if they want to see you again, and if they say 'yes,' I'll bring them in here. Okay? Would that be better than going out there to confront them yourself?"

Castiel nods, and though he still looks pale, Charlie decides that it is a significant improvement. She smiles, ruffles his hair, and returns to the boys.

When she gets there, Sam is already at work on the microwave, and Dean's looking at the doorway as if expecting her. "Yo, Charlie, what's going on?" he says before she has a chance to say anything.

"That is a very, _very_ excellent question," she allows, and he cocks an eyebrow. "But before I answer that, I have a completely, one hundred percent, hypothetical, totally not-based-in-fact question to ask you." She cringes, and then out it comes.

"Do you guys… want to see Castiel again?"

Sam swerves around, completely forgetting about the microwave. Both of the brothers' jaws have dropped, and Charlie briefly reflects on the fact that she should have probably phrased that in a more subtle way, but she can't do anything about that now.

"Cas?" Dean says, and as he does, Sam stands. "Cas is _here_? Where?"

"Whoa there, partner." Charlie's doing flips in her head as she tries to figure out how to calm them down. "I-I never said that he was _here_, exactly – well, that is, I never said that he _wasn't_ here, either, but that's beside the point because, you see, my question is completely, _one hundred_ percent hypothetical, like I told you before I asked it—"

Both of them rush past her, and Charlie groans as she follows them. They only open a few doors before they arrive at her room, and Castiel, still sitting on the bed, still in his pajamas, looks up at the boys sharply.

Castiel looks to Charlie, and she winces. She wants to tell him that indeed, the brothers are worried for Castiel's well being, but she can't be sure of that just yet. She won't lie.

"…Cas," Dean breathes out, but from behind Charlie can't read his expression. Castiel stares into Dean's eyes, and then into Sam's, and the utter grief and remorse in them is beyond words.

"I know—" Castiel speaks now, but without looking at either brother; instead, he looks to Charlie, though he is clearly speaking to the others. "I know that I am a wretched soul, far from the reach of salvation. And I know that many of the things I have done cannot be atoned for, and if I tried, I would only mess things up more. But—"

Dean cuts him off by pulling the fallen angel into a strong, warm embrace. Castiel is floored, despite the vulgar language that comes out of Dean's mouth, and then Sam takes a step forward and joins the hug. Charlie sees the tears of joy in Castiel's eyes, and she almost starts to cry, too.

Then Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath, and pulls away just enough to look over to Charlie. "What are you doing, dork?" he demands, startling her. "C'mon. Family hug. First and last offer."

"You're such a dork," Charlie mutters as she steps forward, and all of the four of them laugh at the haphazard circle they've created.

No matter how stupid she feels, in this small embrace, the moment they pull away, all three of them can see the look of elation on Castiel's face—

And Dean might be mad at Castiel for the mistakes he's made. Castiel might still feel the need to atone for them. Dean and Sam might both be upset with Charlie for not alerting them of Castiel's presence the moment he showed up at her doorstep.

"Thank you so much, Belladonna," Castiel says to Charlie, and she knows he's thanking her for everything this past week and a half or so. She just smiles in response.

But in the end, siblings are supposed to get on each other's nerves—so Charlie sighs and decides that things are just the way that they should be. That it was all worth it.

"…Your name is—like the _porn star_?"

"_Shut up, Dean_!"

* * *

_Elsa's Note_: For those curious, I chose the name "Belladonna" for Charlie because her mother was a fan of _Lord of the Rings_. So I named her after Bilbo's mother at Crystal's suggestion (for her knowledge of _LotR_ is far more vast than mine).

Also, I wrote this largely because I was extremely upset that Charlie and Castiel never met in season 8. I know they'll probably meet in season 9, and that this isn't even possible canon now since we have a promo or whatever, but I don't care. I made this selfishly, and I'm not sorry. (I love these two tho.) I will however apologize for Sam's lack of a role. I love him, I do, but Charlie's not nearly as close to him as I'd like her to be.

Questions? Comments? Critique? Etc? Please shoot me a review cuz I love those bbies! (/heart)


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